Victim of Circumstance
by That Buggy Girl
Summary: Circumstances always lead to what is inevitable. Fate pushes us in one dirrection, even if we want to go in another...(AU, shonen ai. rated for language and sexual implication) [Completed]
1. Prelude

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Take my bleeding heart  
in your fucking hand;  
tell me that you'll  
understand;  
and when you don't  
and when I cry;  
that's the time  
when you will die…

-_Make My Heart Bleed_

________________

"Just one kiss?" Your voice holds a hint of disappointment.

"Just one." I affirm; palms sweaty, throat dry. You're looking at me hungrily, like a viper poised to attack. I can see a sort of carnal desire in your eyes; lust is written across your face as you lean in, closing the distance between us so that our noses are nearly touching. My heart is beating so hard; I'm surprised you can't hear it. I feel as if I'm going to be sick, yet I'm giddy with excitement and anticipation at the same time. 

You look at me, eyes glistening, one hand finding its way to my chin, tilting my head upwards, drawing me closer. I want you to; the gods know I do, but can I really go through with this? Can I allow you to pull me into your web of lust and still make it out alive?

I'm scared; shit I'm so scared. Can I make it out of this with my heart still intact or will you destroy me? If I let you do this just this once to satisfy the curiosity, will you expect more of me? Will you hurt me? Will you expect my heart to bleed for you? Or will you love me? What the hell do you want from me? I'm not like you…

I want to shrink back as your hand works its way to the back of my head; your slender fingers in my long hair. It's too late now; there's nowhere for me to run. I already told you that you could; I can't tell you 'no' now…Can I? 

I never should have allowed this.

What the hell was I thinking? Your fingers are twined through my hair; teasing strands loose from the braid. Your very touch makes me shiver and I'm not sure if it's because I like it or I'm afraid. Your other hand has somehow made its way under my shirt, and it rests pressed up against my chest, palm flat and warm against my skin. When did that happen? How did your hand get there? Surely I would have realized…

You dip down, capturing my mouth with your own and, suddenly, I can't remember a thing. I forget to be afraid, forget my name, forget that you are who -and what- you are. I'm floating, soaring, drifting above the clouds. Something so sweet is not what I ever expected from you; I never thought it could possibly be like this. Is this…? Can it be…? 

How did I arrive at this point in my life?

Fear returns when your tongue forces its way into my mouth. This is too much; I can't let you do that. I didn't ask for that; didn't tell you that you could. Panic is beginning to consume me; I want you to stop. This is what I knew you would do; this is what I expected of you. This is why I didn't want it to begin with…You know what you're doing and I do not.

I push you away and can't help but notice the startled expression on your face when our lips part. You weren't done yet, but I am. I am terrified of what you'll want from me, scared out of my wits. It needs to stop. It needs to…

You try to pull me back, but I duck out of your grasp, reminding myself how you and I are nothing alike. You tricked me into this somehow. I don't know how you did it; but you fooled me into this and I'm angry now. I'm so angry with you; taking advantage of me when I was feeling down. "Don't touch me. Don't ever fucking touch me again."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" You grab me by the shoulder, but I jerk away, flinching at your touch. "You said I could…" The words die on your lips as you look at me, your eyes darkened by some emotion I cannot identify. Is that disappointment? Are you upset that you didn't get to further ravish me? 

"I told you you could kiss me, that was it." My eyes narrow, "I knew you would read too much into it, you psycho." My hand is in my hair, tucking loose strands back where they belong, but my gaze never leaves your face. You look stunned, as if you hadn't expected me to react so badly to your lewd advances. But still…there is something else. 

Your sad eyes will haunt me for the rest of my life.


	2. First Movement

****

Hi. I'd just like to say that until the end of this story, there probably won't be any exchanging of names. It's going to stay in first-person limited POV and all the references will be "I" and "you." I started by throwing the reader into the thick of things, hoping to ensnare an audience and leave you guessing while I backtrack to how it began and then press forwards to where it will end. I do hope you read it and give it a try. It's a lot different than anything I've ever written and going to be full of very *cough* colorful language and some choice words I've never been brave enough to write before. Hope you enjoy it despite the oddness of the style and my use of vulgar language.

__________________

It's late. You're asleep in your bed; curled up among the blankets. I'm exhausted, but I can't fall asleep. I keep thinking about that look in your eyes when I shoved you away earlier. 

My knees are drawn up to my chest and here I sit on my bed, staring into the darkness. I know how you sleep; we've shared this room for the past seven months. You're on your stomach, one arm under your pillow, the other clutching the satin sheet up to your chin. You sleep with your mouth open, your hair down loose around your face, making you look so innocent and not at all like the person who tried to violate me only hours ago.

But I know better. You can't fool me so easily. I know there's a monster asleep in that bed over there, masquerading as you. It hides in you, waiting for just the right time to come out, just the right time to make its presence known. It's an ugly demon; I see it in your eyes when you look at me and it whispers all the things it would like to do to me. 

But tonight…I saw something besides just the demon. I saw this incredible longing I have never seen before; not at all in the seven months since I've known you. I've seen you around with all the others and I only see the demon then. Why did you look so upset when I yelled at you? They're all the same way; they get angry for your forwardness and tell you off. So why was it so different when I did the same?

I rest my chin on my knees, pulling my long braid over my shoulder with one hand. As I finger the end of it, I think about how this whole thing started; how you told me I was cute the day we met. You told me I was cute and I must have blushed to high heaven. You certainly know how to embarrass me; saying all the wrong things at the wrong time. I get flustered when it happens, even if you can't tell, but, for some odd reason, when I think about it later, I smile. 

I haven't figured that one out yet. I know the answer is somewhere in the back of my mind, like I already know it, but I'm not sure I want to face that truth just yet. How can I, when it goes against everything I've always believed? I know I don't want to be like you…

I'm so damn confused.

And you're over there, sleeping peacefully, probably having all sorts of dirty dreams while I'm sitting here with you on my mind and you don't understand how much you affect me every day. It drives me crazy. I can't get you out of my head and I never once wanted you there to begin with.

Am I hopeless?

__

Hmm. A wry smile crosses my face at the thought of how we met when I walked into the room that first day. Surely you must remember…

It was August; hot and humid. The first day we could move in and you got there before me. I wandered into our room to find you sprawled on your bed, dressed in pale gray silk pants and a dusty pink button-down shirt which was, coincidentally, unbuttoned. Your shoulder-length hair was down loose and it spilled around your face. For a moment, all I could do was stare; I was certain you must have been a woman, my roommate's girlfriend or something.

Then I noticed you were lacking in certain proportions. 

Hello, first impressions. Good-bye sanity. 

You rolled over onto your stomach when you realized I was standing there, hair falling into your eyes. Your bangs were like a veil over your face, hiding your eyes and all the desires within. I couldn't see you under them, but you sure must've been able to see me because a dangerous grin painted itself across your face and I almost thought you would start laughing.

But you just lazily pushed your hair back over your shoulder and rested your chin on your hands. "Are you going to stand there all day? Come on; make yourself at home. There's no point staring; you'll have plenty of time to do that later."

But I still stood there staring until my father appeared behind me and pushed me into the room. How could I not stare, with you there in such a…I had felt my face heat up as my father looked at you. I wondered if he was trying not to stare as well. He gaped openly for a moment at you, then seemed to regain his senses, said something to me which I didn't even hear, then left the room again.

At this point, you were laughing. "Welcome to the real world, Kiddo." You sat up, swinging your legs over the bed as you jumped to the floor. You pulled you hair back from your face and up into a loose ponytail, allowing me to get a better look at who you truly are.

I remember thinking you had the palest skin I had ever seen. Summer had just ended, yet you were as white as a ghost. Your eyes are an oily black and they stood out from the rest of your face, glistening like black jewels amidst your delicate features. The way your hair, your eyes and that ridiculous lipstick you always wear were so dark, my first impression was that you looked as if you were dead. I thought you were hideous.

I guess I just wasn't used to you yet.

You stood before me, examining me intently. I remember the way you looked me up and down as if you were hungry and I was the meal. When your eyes came to rest on my face, that was the first time I saw it in you. The demon was there, grinning at me from the depths of your eyes. I wondered what you thought of me; average in every way except for the fact I haven't cut my hair in years. It was braided that day, as it always is, the braid resting just above my butt. I love my hair. Don't know why I decided to grow it out, but I'm proud of it. You reached a hand out as if you were going to touch it, then drew back, your gaze flickering once more to my face. 

"You'll do." It's as if you sounded disappointed. "I guess it could be worse. You could be ugly, after all."

Ugly? My forehead had creased when I heard this, one eyebrow raising. Who's ugly? Not me…The girls always went after me in high school. I had quite the fan club and I had half a mind to tell you so. But for some reason, my mouth decided not to cooperate with my brain and what popped out of my mouth was "What, like you?"

I felt bad when I said it. Instantly, the demon left you and you were taken aback. Your mouth formed this little O on your face and your eyes went wide for a moment. Your hand rose to your hair, pushing your bangs from your forehead, and then you smiled again. "I can see we'll be the best of friends." How you came to that conclusion, I still don't know. But then you disappeared from the room, leaving me to wonder if that whole exchange had really happened or if you were some sort of hallucination.

My father came back into the room then, followed by my mother. "We moved the car so it's closer to the door. Let's get you unloaded so we can be on our way, Son." Dad peered around the room again, as if he were looking for you. When he realized you were gone, his gaze swiveled over to rest on my face. "Was that your roommate?" He sounded almost as if he would be sick.

I shrugged. "I guess so. He didn't even tell me his name." It was then that I knew you really had been there; my father and I would never dream up the same strange individual. I glanced over at your side of the room. Everything was set up already; your bed was made, your desk arranged with picture frames and books, your laptop, a coffee mug and some other random things that I assumed were essential to you in your life. A pair of sandals were neatly on the floor beside your bed; did you leave the room barefoot? I hadn't been paying attention. Everything about you is so intriguing. What are you, I wondered, that you're so capable to not care?

For the next hour or so, there was no sign of you. Mom, Dad and I were a flurry of activity as we unloaded the car and I began putting things away. They left after I was about half finished and things were strewn all over the room. You appeared again not too long after that, hair down loose again, the hair tie around your scrawny wrist. You have gorgeous hair; I thought so even then. Not as long as mine -nowhere near as long as mine- but smooth and shiny none-the-less. You obviously take good care of your hair. Sometimes I just want to touch it…

You smiled off-handedly at me, languidly brushing back your hair with the flick of a wrist. I couldn't help but notice how relaxed you were, even in a situation such as this. We didn't know a thing about one another, yet here we were, forced to live together for the next nine months. I was scared to death of you, but you just climbed back onto your bed, examining your bare feet like you had all the time in the world while I stood in the doorway, again finding myself unable to stop staring.

"What?" You spoke without even looking at me. Somehow, you knew I was gawking at you; you knew I couldn't stop staring. "Haven't you ever seen a gay man before? You're really cute, you know, but people are going to think there's something wrong with you if you stand around with your mouth open like that all the time."

My face flushed red the second your words registered in my brain. You were gay and I was cute…That was a bad combination. I suppose, looking back, it's better you weren't looking at me. You probably would have laughed at my expression and I would have been even more embarrassed. 

So I ignored you and began organizing my CD collection. You looked up, watching me as I meticulously arranged them in order by most listened to, all of my favorites at the front of the CD case. It's an obsession of mine; I love my music and it's the only thing I make a more than half-assed attempt to keep tidy. 

I had my back to you and I heard when you slid off the bed a second time; tensed when I heard the swish of your silk pants as you moved towards me. You were behind me in no time, looking over my shoulder and watching my every move. "You've got pretty good taste in music." Your voice was right in my ear and you almost sounded teasing.

I didn't say anything, just stared at the wall. The hair on the back of my neck rose; God you creeped me out back then. "You know," You went on, "You're my fifth roommate. None of them lasted very long. Some of them weren't comfortable with my…preferences." There was a small pause in the sentence, as if you were choosing your words carefully, "It doesn't bother you that I'm gay, does it?" You didn't bother to wait for a response, just went on anyway, "One of them insulted me and hurt my feelings so I got angry. Word to the wise, you should never get me angry if you have a desire to see your next birthday. I can be mean and nasty when I want." A sardonic laugh escaped your lips following this statement and I wanted to get away from you. I couldn't believe it; they wanted me to live with a psychopath.

I suppose, looking back, it was your way of being friendly.

"You're a freshman, right?" The scathing quality of your voice was gone, replace almost by joviality, and my heart resumed beating. "I'm a junior. This is my third year here and I hope we can get along better than my other roommates. There are a couple things you should know about me right from the start if you want to live with me."  


__

I don't. I don't want to live with you; you scare the shit out of me. But could I tell you that? No…So instead, I nodded slowly, just so you know I'm listening.

"I like men. I already told you that. And I'm not a pretty sight when I get angry, so watch what you say and do. I really have no desire to hurt some one as attractive as you. I don't care if you have girls around, so long as you don't care when I have guys around. And if you have alcohol, it'd make me happy if you share. I like to have a good time." At this, I looked over my shoulder at you and you were smiling amiably. 

There was something about your smile and the way your cheeks tinged pint when you were excited. It made you look almost innocent; like a little boy. I wanted to laugh suddenly, but didn't know how you would react to it. I was afraid if you thought I was laughing at you, you would get angry and I really had no desire to see you angry. So I looked aimlessly back at my desk and the clutter which had already accumulated on it, trying -as if it was possible- to forget that you were right behind me.

"What is the matter with you?" Your hand hovered just above my shoulder, but you didn't touch me. "You seem…nervous. Am I making you uncomfortable?"

I stared down at the desk, wondering what sort of expression was on your face. Were you amused? Hurt? Angry? Confused? I certainly didn't know what to think. You were like a riddle wrapped in an enigma and I couldn't figure you out. Usually, I'm a fairly good judge of character, but you… "N-no…"

"What then?" This time your hand found its way to my shoulder, resting there comfortably and I wanted to shrink back, but it felt nice. No one had ever tried to figure out what was bothering me when I was moody; no one ever asked me what was wrong. You knew nothing about me, yet you thought it was you making me uncomfortable? You didn't miss a thing. I suddenly started to laugh, my shoulders shaking beneath your hand. 

"What's so funny?" I finally looked over my shoulder to find you with a perplexed look on your face. You looked so confused that I laughed harder, removing your hand from my shoulder. Your palm was warm against mine; you may have looked like a corpse, but you were very much alive. Your eyes danced with laughter, then you cracked a grin. I'm sure you must have thought I was insane. 

"Maybe you're right." I had smiled at you, "Maybe we can be friends. You're kind of crazy, but it's nice."

I smile now too, thinking about that. They say first impressions are the most important and I certainly had an interesting first impression of you. Even though I wasn't quite sure what to make of you, I was certain you meant me no harm. Even when you looked at me with that lusty expression on your face, I wasn't really afraid. It was when…

You shift slightly, mumbling something in your sleep, sighing contentedly, and my smile widens. You're happy. I love when you're happy. It makes you so much fun. You and I have become quite the duo over the past months, haven't we? It might seem like you're the leader and I follow your example, but more often than not, I'm the one who gets us in trouble. I'm "spirited" as you say, full of youthful energy. You're more laid-back and have a whatever attitude. So we usually do what I want to do…Which includes parties, keggers and bashes. We've had a blast together so far and I think you're the best friend I've ever had, in spite of your peculiarities. You're always willing to do the things I suggest, even if they seem a little stupid.

Sometimes, I wonder if you would want to do the things I don't suggest.

Sometimes, I wonder if _I _would really want to do the things I don't suggest.

You make me wonder too many things about myself.

Far too many things.


	3. Second Movement

Do you remember -and I bet you do- the first time I got drunk?

It was a Friday night and I came back wasted. I don't know any more who I went out with, maybe I went out alone, but I drank myself stupid that night. I can't even recall why I went out drinking that night. Maybe I went to a party; maybe I was feeling depressed. Whatever; that's not important now. But I came back and you weren't there, which, for whatever reason, left me feeling disappointed. Maybe I wanted to prove to you that I wasn't straight-edge and I could let loose from time to time. I knew how to have fun just as well as you.

Only…It didn't seem very fun, looking back. What was I thinking? I felt terrible by the time you returned with your companion for the evening. You tried to get in, but I was leaning back against the door and you had to push me into the corner to open it because I wouldn't move. Your guest looked at me, visibly disgusted and I…I flipped him off, didn't I? Your lips tightened into a frown, but you didn't reprimand me.

You took care of me instead.

Realizing I was going to be violently ill at some point (you'd seen me a little bit wasted before), you sent him away, then bent over me to help me up. When you pulled me off the floor, I nearly fell over again -right into your arms. You blushed -the first and only time I've ever seen you blush- as I draped myself languidly over you, my head nuzzled up against your neck. "I ruined your fun, didn't I? Do you shtill want to have fun? I can have fun…" I slurred.

You pried me off you; I was being rather clingy. Every time you removed my arms from around you, I put them back, not at all comprehending why you weren't happy about it. I was pawing at you, pulling on your shirt, snuggling up against you. "Don't you like me? I like you. You're a good guy, even if you're really weird. Don't you want to do me? You shaid I was cute…"

I was so out of it that night. I'm glad you didn't take advantage of me. I guess you're a bigger man than that after all. Instead, you told me you knew I didn't mean it; I was drunk, and you took care of me. You made sure my hair stayed out of the toilet while I was puking up my guts, helped me clean myself up and change my clothes, and then put me to bed afterwards. Even though I couldn't look you in the eyes for days after that, I'm grateful you were watching out for me. I think after that was when I first started to see you as a true friend.

I remember lying half-asleep on my bed as you sat there, brushing back my hair. Your hand was soft and smooth; it felt nice against my flushed cheek. I looked up at you and it was one of the first times I saw you without that lusty look in your eyes. You were frowning and you looked almost disappointed in me. You asked me why and I mumbled "I don't know…" My head hurt and my stomach was still jumpy. I had no way to explain myself and wouldn't have had the strength to if I even had an excuse, so I didn't bother.

"I wouldn't mind fucking with you." Your finger traced around my mouth, "But if we ever do it, it's going to be because you really want it. Not because you're bombed. I want you to mean it." You leaned over, forehead resting against mine, stealing a kiss, and I was too drunk to care.

Or maybe I was starting to sober up and I didn't care anyway.

"I want to hurt you." Your voice was positively carnal, "I want you to bleed for me." Your hand was still lovingly caressing my cheek, fingers gentle as you spat out such harsh words, "I want to hear you scream…" You were whispering in my ear as you lay there on your stomach beside me on the bed, "That's what I do to all the others…"

"Go ahead…" I think I mumbled something along those lines, but you shook your head. 

"No, not this time. You'd be mad when you realized in the morning." Your hand rested on my forehead, pushing back my bangs, "As much as I'd like it, I don't think you'd be very pleased with me." Your head was beneath my chin, you were snuggled up right next to me. You were probably turned on seeing me so helpless, but you kept your cool. "So why don't you just get some sleep? Maybe you'll feel better in the morning."

You moved to get off the bed then and I was once again clutching you. "Stay…" I must've sounded like the biggest brat. I could easily chalk my actions of that night up to inebriation, but I'm not sure any more. What if I really meant it? Holy shit, then what? I'm still not even sure if it was the booze talking or how I really feel about you. 

I wanted you to kiss me again. I wanted you to stay right there with me until I felt better; to be good to me and take care of me as you were. I'm almost certain my brain was working properly again then and I was more scared to admit this to myself than you.

Thinking about this, I'm still terrified. Perhaps that's why I pushed you away earlier. Even now, nearly five months after that first kiss and the others that followed, I still can't tell you -or myself- just how much I need you. I told you to kiss me tonight because I was beginning to forget what it had been like and I don't ever want to forget. You tasted good and I always want to remember… Just one kiss; no more, no less. You ruined it for yourself. If you had just done what I asked, perhaps I would have let you do more. I wouldn't have gotten angry.

I'm distracted from my thoughts when you roll over on your side, facing the wall. I can see you through the silvery moonlight that filters through our window. The pale light makes you look even more spectral; the bare skin of your back is creamy white in contrast to the darkness of the room.

I swallow. Do you have any idea what you do to me? You're not even awake and you're still so sexy. I've always considered myself to be a strong person, but you make me come unraveled. Everything you do is suggestive; I'm certain your goal is to seduce me. You make me think things about myself I never expected to wonder about. When you kiss me, I forget everything. I forget that we're both men, that it's wrong, that my parents would kill me. Nothing else matters. When you kiss me, I want to tell you not to stop, but I'm scared to death of what you'll do if I let you continue. This is all new to me. But you….You know what you're doing,

That scares me the most.

I hate being afraid like this. I wish I knew what I wanted from you and myself. I feel like such a fucking coward, scared of the things I shouldn't care about at all. It's really no big deal, right? I mean, you're open about it. You know exactly what you want, and when, and have no problems telling the world. I can't even tell you that I enjoy being kissed and you're the one who kisses me.

God, am I pathetic or what?

There's so much I want to tell you and I can't bring myself to do it, even though I trust you more than any one else in this world. I want to let you know all of my greatest fears; all of the things which cause me the most worry. I want to tell you that I'm scared of what will happen when I finally find the courage to act on my feelings. Even if you don't know my feelings -I couldn't tell you if I wanted to; I'm unsure myself- you would surely understand my fear. You must have felt the same things at some point in your life.

I want you to wake up now and realize that I'm awake as well. Maybe you'll tell me you're lonely and you want to talk. Maybe you'll have a bad dream and I can keep you safe. Maybe you'll finally stop fucking with my mind and finally fuck with…Dear God; did I really just think that??

I'm a mess. I think I was better off that night when I was drunk. I think I was thinking more clearly then than I am now. I bury my face back in my arms, wishing I wasn't thinking these things at all. What kind of circumstances had led me to this train of thought? I'm a victim of my own uncertainty; how much longer will it be before I break? I know for certain that I only want you around when it happens.

Sometimes, I want you to be the one to break me.

That night I was drunk, you showed me a side of you I hadn't seen ever before. You showed me that you truly care about me; that my welfare is a true concern. I knew we were friends before that, but I thought that you put yourself first. But you sent away some one you planned to sleep with to take care of me, even though it was my own stupidity which led to my state of being that night. You're a very loyal person. You said we would be the best of friends and now we are. I guess those words were more than just words to you. 

This is torture.

Have I been such a good friend to you? Have I been there for you when you needed me and taken care of you when you were down in the dumps? When people are cruel to you, when you do badly in a class, when things don't go your way, do I put aside my own selfishness for you? When you're excited about something I could care less about, do I listen as you tell me about it?

I can't recall everything from that night so many Fridays ago. I'm sure my tongue had been loosened as one of the affects of the alcohol. Did I say anything I shouldn't have that night? I didn't tell you, did I, that sometimes I bang a girl because I feel it's expected of me. I didn't tell you that I do it because I don't want to admit things about myself. I don't like it, but it's normal, right? I didn't tell you that I feel like a fucking disappointment to my parents because they're so old fashioned and want to know why I don't have a girlfriend yet. I didn't tell you that I used to get wasted like this at home when they berated me, that I've considered suicide just so they would shut up. And I sure as hell hope I didn't tell you that I thought you were beautiful when you get angry.

I love to see you angry. You said it wasn't pretty, but I think you're glorious in your anger. You're such a sadist; you love making people hurt. When you get aggravated, you begin with a pout and your face scrunches up. Then you go into tantrum mode, ranting and raving, until finally you reach pure anger. You get a twisted expression on your face; your oily eyes seem to be even darker than usual. Your brow furrows, your pupils constrict and I can practically see the steam rising from your head. It's wonderful sight. 

I wish you had been angry with me that night. I hated that damn disappointed expression on your face, as if you expected better of me. Just like my mother and I couldn't stand it. You looked sort of sad, as if I had let you down somehow. Maybe it was because I didn't invite you along. You said once you liked to go drinking with me; that I was a fun drunk. Were you upset that I went alone? I know that wasn't very smart; I could have gotten myself in trouble. 

I fell asleep while you were over at your desk, doing something on your laptop. The furious clacking of the keys sort of lulled me to sleep; I could hear that _type-type-type_ as your fingers flew across the keyboard. I knew you were updating your on-line journal; you do that every night before bed. It was kind of soothing to hear the sound, it meant you were nearby if I needed you.

That was a comforting thought.

I drifted off that night, happy even though my head was pounding and my stomach still churned. I think I was happy because I knew you cared about me, even if you had an odd way of showing it.

But do you know that I care just as much about you?


	4. Third Movement

Then there was the day it snowed. 

Right before finals week of my first semester, there was that blizzard and classes were canceled. This is a rare occurrence for college students and it was a nice break from routine. You had the unfortunate luck of an 8:00 AM class last semester and I was jerked from a sound sleep when your alarm began blaring. You swatted at it from somewhere under your blankets, dragged yourself from the bed and, pulling on a hoodie, disappeared out of the room to take a piss. 

You came back, more alert and jubilant. "Classes are canceled!" You sang happily, prodding me awake. Before I realized what you were doing, you were climbing into my bed, pushing me over towards the wall, telling me you were feeling lonely. I gave a sleepy, half-assed objection, but I was too tired still and incoherent and you wound up staying. There was no point arguing anyway. It's not like you would have listened to my protests. You'd already made yourself comfortable.

You fell back to sleep quickly, but I just couldn't relax. I was too nervous with you there beside me, inches away from me while I was shoved up against the cold wall. I was only wearing boxers and a tee-shirt; I was worried about what would happen if I fell asleep and you woke up. You moved a little and I tensed, wishing I could calm down. Feeling the silk of your pants against my bare leg didn't help any.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling while you slept peacefully. My mind was racing; I thought of all the other times you had men in your bed. You were violent with them; always wishing to draw blood, you were something of a sadistic lover. I'd seen the aftermath of your love; the guys you'd left with not only broken hearts, but broken bodies. You'd never done any one while I was in the room and I'm thankful for that. But I've seen…

You pick the most naïve guys, the ones with the littlest experience, that way they won't know what to expect. They come willingly, lured, I'm sure, by your seductive comments and your femininity. You were hungry for them; the demon was always lurking in your shadow. You love to make them squeal, don't you? 

Don't think I didn't know how promiscuous you were, even then when you were so innocently asleep beside me. I had glanced over at you, your hair spilling out of your ponytail, a small smile on your face. You had lines on your face from the sleeve of your velour hoodie, your lashes swept across your cheeks as your eyelids fluttered. I wondered what you were dreaming about that you had such a contented look on your face. You almost looked…normal, sleeping there like that.

All thoughts of normalcy flew from my mind, however, when you latched onto my arm and began nuzzling against it. My face must've been flaming, I could feel it heating up the second you touched me. If only my parents could have seen me then…Mom would have thrown a fit; seeing you cuddled against me and me all blushing and bashful. Why I was so flustered…Well, some things are better left unsaid, aren't they? I'm sure my father would disown me if he knew the thoughts running through my head as you dug your fingernails into my bare arm. It felt surprisingly…nice.

I had calmed down then. I think my exhaustion from being woken early was part of what was making me so tense. I needed sleep…I wasn't used to being up so early. Normally, I slept until around ten, then hurried off for a quick bite to eat before that class we had together at eleven. So I figured…_What the hell? Might as well sleep, even with the person I'm not sure I should trust to be near me while I'm asleep. He hasn't tried to pull anything other than a few kisses yet…_My eyes had rolled towards the ceiling at the thought of this. You weren't doing a very good job seducing me, were you?

But then, you _had_ managed to find your way into my bed.

I was just as hopeless then as I am now.

I did manage to fall back asleep, only to have an extremely bizarre dream. 

__

We were in a never-ending field, you and I, and it was snowing. The whole scene was a frosted expanse and flurries were drifting around us, swirling masses of white. The wind teased some of your thin hair loose and fluttered the ends of your purple scarf. Suddenly, you were running, chasing after something and yelling over your shoulder for me to hurry up. I tried to follow, but it seemed the faster I ran, the farther away you were. I was trying to call out, telling you to wait, but my voice didn't seem to be working at all.

"Don't! Come back! Wait for me! Don't leave me here all alone! I don't want to be alone!" I was screaming then, but you were too far away and didn't hear me. I was cold, I was lost, I was all alone as I collapsed into the snow, sobbing into my hands.

Then I woke up. 

The bed beside me was empty. Maybe classes hadn't been canceled and I had dreamed that? Maybe you were gone to class…Maybe you were just _gone_. I nearly panicked at that thought. Then I realized your bathrobe wasn't hanging in its normal spot. _He's taking a shower…_I calmed myself down; knowing you were nearby and coming back soon. You wouldn't just disappear; we were friends and friends don't bale on each other.

Reassuring myself by reminding myself of this, I went off to take a shower as well. I needed to calm down and think. I had so much to think about, namely what that dream had meant and why having you not there had unnerved me so much. I could hear you singing away in the other shower for a while and I blushed. You sing the most suggestive things while you're in there and some times I find myself wondering what else you do while naked and wet, which only causes me to blush more.

When I came back, you were curled up on your bed, combing your hair. Ignoring the lusty look on your face as I pawed through my dresser in nothing but my boxers, I found a pair of baggy jeans and a sweater. You were watching as I began pulling my clothes on; I could feel your gaze burning hungrily into my back. You do that all the time, it makes me flustered and I ignore you. I've never caught you, but I know you do it.

You were relaxed there, the TV on and tuned to some trashy talk show. Sporting flannel pajama bottoms and a baggy thermal shirt, you looked as if you weren't planning on moving at all for the rest of the day. You hadn't pulled your hair up and it hung damp and scraggly around your face. I studied you for a moment; something seemed off. Then I realized you weren't wearing any lipstick, which was not a normal sight. You still looked just as girly as ever, but it was out of the ordinary to see you that way.

You smiled at me, patting the satin sheets in the vacant space beside you, asking "Can I play with your hair? It's so pretty."

Against my better judgment, I found myself climbing up beside you, mentally telling myself I was going to regret this in the long run. Giving my head a shake, my long hair rippled down my back in a mass of tangled blackness. You squealed with glee and immediately attacked me with your hairbrush, pulling it through the snarled ends of my long mane. I relaxed then, shifting to make myself comfortable as you twined your fingers through my hair. I was content with the situation; glad I had you there with me.

We were lost in silence for a while, save for the people yelling at each other on the TV in the background. You hummed to yourself, obviously happy with our current arrangement.

"Hey," I broke the silence, "We've gotten pretty close, haven't we?"

You nodded, "Mm-hmm," fingers still working their way through my hair.

"You don't think we'll ever grow apart, do you? I've never had a close friend before…" I had thought back to my days in high school; the falsity, the superficiality, the horrid way every one treated each other. I could only imagine what it had been like for you, what with the way you were and all. I was certain that if we had been at the same high school, I would have never allowed any one to fuck with you the way people here occasionally did.

You didn't say anything for a moment; didn't even move. Then I began to blush as your arms snaked around me, hands resting on my chest. Your forehead was pressed up against my back, voice muffled by my curtain of hair. "I sure as hell hope not. I've never had a friend before either." You whispered.

"I had girls that followed me around-"

"Trash." An indignant tone filled your voice.

"-And there were guys I hung out with, but I never really trusted any one. They didn't seem to understand a thing about me. I don't think they even cared. But I trust you with almost anything."

"Almost?" I'm sure one of your eyebrows rose at that. You sounded slightly hurt.

"Well, er, there is the matter of love…" I stammered, face flushing, knowing I didn't even trust myself with that.

"Ah, yes." You relaxed again and your fingers toyed with the fabric of my shirt, "The…differences in our preferences."

"Yeah, that." I mumbled. We never discussed that, save for your informing me on the day we met -as if I wouldn't have been able to figure it out on my own- that you were gay. I didn't know why you hated women so much, but I respected that and wasn't going to pry into it. If you felt comfortable enough, you would tell me in due time. But I knew it would bother you if I had chicks around, so I never really made friends with any that would want to drop by. I valued your friendship more than that.

Did you know that I'd only done two girls since the fall semester began? And I never did them in our room; always in theirs when they would "sexile" their roommates for a while. I really didn't find them appealing, but hey, fucking is fucking, right? It's not like I was interested in either of them; I just needed release.

Don't you know how unsettling it was for me to come back at night and find you asleep while some pathetic wuss sobbed in the corner of your bed? Don't you know how much it irked me? Those little shits were terrified of you. You couldn't have been satisfied with them, could you? They didn't deserve what you gave them; none had ever come expecting what you dished out. I never said a word to any of them; no, not a word. They'd look at me pleadingly, or maybe frightened, but I ignored them as they crawled off your bed and disappeared from both our lives. 

I hate them all so much.

I hate the way every one treats you, just because you're different than they are.

Neither of us left the room until sometime around six-thirty that day. When we were hungry, we snacked on the things we had around in the room. We just hung around, listening to music and watching TV. You finished with my hair, having wound up putting it in its usual long braid, and I leaned on your shoulder, felling more relaxed then I ever had since I arrived here. You'd tried nothing at all that day, other than invading my bed, and I wondered why you were so subdued. I would have expected our being alone in the room together for ten hours or so to provoke you more.

It was when we went to dinner that I began to understand your unusual behavior. You had gotten fidgety when I suggested a meal, but complied, admitting that you _were_ hungry. I didn't understand why you were so hesitant to go; usually you're pretty enthusiastic about going anywhere because you never know when we might run into some one "cute" or something fun will pop up. Sure, there are chicks all over the dinning hall, but (most of them) find you unappealing anyway.

You shuffled along behind me through the snow, not with any of your usual gusto. Normally, you were a big tease in blustery weather, pelting me with snowballs, suggesting we build a couple of snowmen, wishing you had a sled. One of your more recent stolen kisses had occurred in the snow under a street lamp for the whole world to see, you claiming breathlessly that it was better when I was cold, that it was like kissing the lips of a dead man, while I blushed furiously and wondered how I wound up with a sadistic necrophiliac for a roommate.

Everything became clear when we entered the dinning hall and made our way through the building to our favorite table. It seems your reputation was spreading and people had developed certain prejudices against you; I heard several cruel jibes coming from the people who watched as we wandered together through the room, as their eyes seemed to burn into you.

My brow furrowed. Usually, we were both ignored by the masses. This was strange; that all of a sudden there seemed to be heightened animosity towards you. But you held your head high, following me as if they weren't even there. I looked over my shoulder at you once and I could see, hidden by that proud façade, the tears swimming in the back of your eyes. 

It made me angry.

"Hey, fag, you got a new one, eh?" One of them called out to you, "How many times have you fucked with him? He looks like a scrawny one, that kid. I'm surprised you haven't killed him yet." 

My head lowered, bangs hiding my face. I couldn't believe people could be so cruel when they knew absolutely nothing. I…I wanted to hurt them so badly for making you suffer. I wanted to destroy them, so they would know what it was like to feel pain. And through it all, through my storm of anger and hatred, I wanted to protect you, because I fucking hated that look in your eyes as you tried to pretend what they said didn't matter.

No matter how much it "didn't matter" to you, it sure as hell mattered to me.

The same kid started to say something else, but my head snapped up and I reeled around to sock him in the face. How dare he? How dare he insult you when you had never done a thing to him? He looked stunned as my fist connected with his face and I started screaming at him. "You shit! You piece of shit! If I fucking ever hear anybody say anything like that again, I'll-"

I was cut off abruptly when you caught me by the arm to keep me from inflicting any further damage to the punk's face. "Come on; it's not worth it. Let's get out of here. I'm not very hungry anyway." I looked up at you, taking in your furrowed brow, the beginnings of a pout apparent in your expression. Would you get angry with me? Would you kiss me when you're angry? I felt a shudder work its way through my body as I allowed you to drag me back out the door, apologizing softly to the workers for causing such a commotion.

You jostled me all the way down the sidewalk until we reached a place out of view from any one who happened to be nearby. It was dark and cloudy and the last little bits of the snow still fell, swirling around us, sparkling as obscure beams of light hit them; giving the world around us an almost magical feel.

You still held my arm lightly. "Why?" Both your voice and your expression were sad, "Why did you just do that? Do you want to get yourself in trouble? Everything would have been fine!" Your voice rose a little, signaling the beginnings of a tantrum. Maybe you would hurt me, let me share your pain.

"It was not 'just fine'!" I was shouting back at you, "They were saying shit about you that isn't true! Don't you care? Why didn't you tell them off? Why did you let them say all that crap?" Tears began to streak down my face. I was frustrated, didn't understand why you put up with that. "Why…?" The words died, trailing off into nothingness as you pulled me into your arms.

I'm sure I could have pushed you away. I could have done anything I wanted to stop you then, but my mind was a hazy swirl of mixed emotions as your lips crushed against mine. I could have chalked my flushed cheeks up to the cold, but I knew it was you. I would be lying to every one else if I said you didn't get me flustered, but I can't lie to myself. _Just this once…_Closing my eyes, I had wrapped my arms around you, hesitantly returning the kiss…_You win._

That had been a strange day. The snow, all the time we spent alone together just talking, the fact that I not only let you kiss me, but willingly returned the affection. I can see us together in my mind, you taller than me by several inches, leaned over, me straining upwards to reach you, everything around us cold and our bodies pressed together, the only warm thing left in this cold cruel world as you kissed me passionately, left me breathless, as the snow danced around us under the gaze of a watchful moon.

That memory will never leave me. It haunts me even now in my dreams. I don't know why I let you do that. I don't know why I didn't push you away. And I sure as hell don't know why I responded in turn. All I know is how I feel.

But can the way I feel be real?

Glancing over at your sleeping form once more, I scoot over on the bed, peeking out the window. The moon is once again shining brightly, casting ghastly shadows around the room. I sit perched on the edge of the bed, reflecting on that night when I had been fully aware of everything and still allowed you to act on your desires.

And damn it, it had felt good.

Maybe I'm being a little more honest with myself now. I'll admit it to myself. I enjoy your kisses. I was comfortable the day we shared my bed. I don't even care too much when you watch me change. I get jealous when you talk about other guys. I hate the way they wimp out on you, the way they tell you they didn't have fun, the way they cower in fear as if you're going to devour them. They willingly come here, but even they don't understand you. 

A frown crosses my face. I'm the only one who understands a thing about you, aren't I? I'm the only one who cares for you and befriended you in spite of your…uniqueness. I'm the only one who loves you. And -shit! I guess it woulda surfaced any way, wouldn't it? Yeah; I love you. I love you so much it hurts.

But hell, what do I do now?


	5. Fourth Movement

Yesterday morning started out kind of strange. 

It was Sunday; both of us slept late. I was up before you, of course; that's how it was always was. I woke up with my head feeling somewhat congested and my mind a jumble of thoughts. You were on my mind, like always; it seems like you're all I think about these days. I looked over at you as I stretched, making sure you were comfortable and warm. You were clutching one of your pillows, face pressed up against it, and I smiled. Same way you always slept.

Since my mind was working overtime, I decided I would go for a run to try and clear my head. Anytime I got angry or worked up or I was lost deep in thought, I liked to go running. It gave me plenty of time to think. And I had a lot of thinking to do.

I pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a hoodie, then began stuffing my feet into my sneakers. You mumbled something and I paused, unsure if you were awake or merely dreaming. When you didn't say anything else, I knew you were still asleep. Giving you one last glance, I disappeared from the room.

Campus is always dead on Sunday mornings. It's kind of eerie, being out and not seeing another living being. My feet slapped on the wet pavement, the sound echoing through the deserted campus, and my long braid bounced against my back as I jogged. My head was still stuffed up -more so than I had thought it was- and I had to spit every couple of minutes to keep from swallowing the crap running down my throat. It was raining and chilly, but I didn't really care. I could see my breath before me in little puffs and I hoped that when I spit, it wasn't going in my hair.

This was a route I knew all too well. Up the path, past the alumni building, down by the field house and the practice areas for the sports teams, up the hill, by the student union, the pond, through the courtyard and past the dinning hall, then back to our dorm. The main roads of the campus went in one continuous loop and I had run it many times. It took only about half an hour to run it once, which is what I usually did.

After setting a good pace for myself, I allowed my thoughts to wander to -what else?- you. An image of you snuggled up in bed kept filling my mind, causing me to smile. You looked so incredibly peaceful as you slept, not at all like the teasing, suggestive, occasionally vicious person I knew you to be. Why, I wondered, did I feel so calm when I was with you? I was so at ease; as if we belonged in one another's presence. I felt safe with you; as if no matter what happened, everything would be okay. 

When I failed that midterm, you reminded me how well I had done on all my papers and quizzes in that class. When my parents gave me shit about my life, you'd listen while I vented about it. When I had a bad day, you'd put your arm around me and suggest all the things you could do to "cheer me up" until I was blushing so badly my face must have resembled a tomato. I would always manage to stammer out that the things you suggested would be more likely to make _you _happy and you would laugh, telling me "you never know until you try, eh?"

I tried to be there for you the same way. When people were unnecessarily cruel, I'd try to beat them up (although you never let me). When you needed to cry, I'd hold you in my arms and let you cry on my shoulder. When you're happy, I always wind up happy as well because no one can stay upset when you're in a good mood.

But what about you made all these little things matter? I had never put much stock in love before, or even friendship, for that matter. But lately, I've been finding myself asking your opinions on things, trusting you with my secrets and generally just wanting to be in your presence. Why was there a longing in your eyes, even when I saw no shadow of the demon? When had you stopped bringing your little bitches around? I hadn't seen you with another man in over a month. Had you begun to realize it made me jealous? Why did it make me jealous anyway? Did I only want you to pay attention to me? Did I crave your love? Did I love you? 

Was it possible that I…loved another man?

I had to stop running at that point, as this realization dawned on me, so I could cough up another wad of phlegm. Damn this sinus headache! There was so much stuff running down the back of my throat I thought I would either throw up or choke. Maybe jogging in the rain while I was stuffed up wasn't such a good idea.

I sank down on one of the stone benches near the pond. The stone was cold and wet, but hey, so was I. I spat again, then flopped down on my back, wishing I had a bottle of water, that I had stayed in bed, that my head wasn't pounding and that you were there with me. 

I lay there for a while, eyes closed, rain pelting my face and plastering my bangs to my forehead. It felt kind of nice and I wondered what would happen if I just stayed there. Would you wonder where I was? Would you come looking for me? Would you worry about me the way I would worry about you?

I rolled over on my side, staring into the pond as rain caused its surface to ripple. How like that pond I was, and you the rain, causing my very soul to flow and contort every time you so much as touched me. You had somehow broke beneath my surface, diving deeper within me, then surfacing again, leaving me all on my own to drown as I tried to test your depths.

I sat up. There was no point in staying there any longer. I was cold, but had caught my breath. I could run some more now; I had only covered half the distance. But I really didn't feel like it. I just wanted to stay there by the pond and I wanted you to be there with me to put an arm around my shoulders and kiss me, so I could blush and pretend I didn't like it.

But I knew you wouldn't come.

I hoisted myself off the bench and began running again, suddenly in a hurry to get back to the room and back to you. I wanted to see you, to touch you, to know this wasn't some sort of dream and you really were my best friend. I need you in my life for reasons I cannot even begin to explain.

Looking up through the pelting rain, I could see a blurry figure moving towards me. You…What were you…? Had I imagined…? No, you were there, calling my name. I stopped, hunched over, hands splayed on my legs as I paused to catch my breath. You stopped before me, looking at me concernedly from under your floral print umbrella. "You okay?"

I looked up at you, our eyes meeting as I pushed my bangs back from my forehead. "Yeah." I muttered, pausing to spit again. Fuck this weather. I always get congested in the morning in rainy weather. And then I spit a lot, as I had been all morning. "What are you doing here?"

"You were gone longer than usual." You shivered slightly against the cold, tossing your scarf over your shoulder, "I know when you go out for a run, it never takes you more than forty-five minutes to get back. I was worried." Your dark eyes fell shut and a pensive expression crossed your face, "I didn't think you'd go out in weather like this. When I woke up and you were gone…"

"Ah, sorry. Didn't mean to worry you. I needed to think."

"Don't worry about it. I just thought I'd come looking." A grin crossed your face. We had begun walking, heading in the direction of the dorm. "You're soaking wet. Are you cold? I could warm you up…" Your tone was teasing as you suggested what you would like to do, "We could go back to the room and crawl into my bed together. Of course, it works better if neither of us have any clothes on…" You laughed seductively, licking your lips as your eyebrows rose.

"Pervert." I accused. But I _was _cold and I huddled under the umbrella with you, allowing you to put an arm around me.

"You know you like it." You intoned, giving my sopping wet braid a tug, causing me to blush because, well, it wasn't too far from the truth. Noticing the expression on my face, you smirked. "Just admit it already. You find me attractive."

"I do not!" I snapped, trying to suppress the blush threatening to consume my face. 

"You think I'm ugly?" You pouted, eyes filling with tears, fingers teasing a loose strand of hair off my face.

"I never said that…" I stammered. There was going to be no easy way out of this…

"What then?" You demanded, stopping and taking my face in your hands, forcing me to look you in the eyes. I could see myself reflected in the inky pools that were your eyes and I looked scared. Did you enjoy seeing me frightened? Was it a turn on for you? 

"You're my friend." I sounded out slowly, "Looks don't matter. I'd still be your friend, no matter how you looked." Yes, that sounded okay. Not at all incriminating or anything. You wouldn't suspect…I do find myself attracted to you. Very much so. And that unnerves me.

"Well," You let go of me, smiling deviously, "I think you're pretty damn fine. Now come on. You don't need to be getting sick because you're all wet."

After I was warm and dry again, I began yanking a comb through my hair. It was dripping and I had to towel it off before I re-braided it. You were at your desk, working on a paper due later in the week, King Hippo spilling out of your speakers. You have such an odd taste in music; you like bands no one has ever heard of. I got used to your off-beat musical tastes. Some of it actually wasn't so bad. Random was pretty good, King Hippo could be better, Ophidia was bizarre. Half their songs aren't in English, they're mixes of other languages, but they have a good beat.

I could hear you humming along to the upbeat tune blasting out from your laptop and it made me smile. Only a week or so before, the dinning hall had hosted a karaoke night and you had sung that very song. It would have been a riot to watch if I weren't, for whatever reason, suspicious that you were singing it to me. You were grinning as you sang, dark eyes glittering dangerously, moving to the beat, gaze never leaving my face. I could feel myself blushing and I wanted the floor to open and swallow me up. I was mortified. 

But you had gained yourself an audience as you purred out the lyrics seductively, raising your eyebrows at me, making me blush more. I don't think any one actually noticed me sitting there atop that table in the back of the room; they were too busy watching your escapades. 

__

Ooo…I wantcha  
Ooo…I need ya  
You don't have to be so shy  
C'mon and give me a try  
Lemme hold you tightly in my arms  
Lemme kiss you, I'm sure you taste divine

Don't be so afraid; I mean you no harm  
Lemme have you, you're lookin' so fine  
Everybody needs somebody; I can keep ya warm  
all those cold lonely nights, if ya'd be mine

'Cause Ooo…I wantcha  
And Ooo…I need ya…  


You were hoping around, gleefully belting out the song, and I began to think "gee, maybe this _isn't_ so bad" when suddenly all eyes were on me as your finger pointed in my general direction. For a moment, it seemed like everything ceased to function as numerous pairs of eyes focused on me and you warbled out the last line: "_Won't you be mine?"_ I froze. I must have had a deer-in-the-headlights look; my face must have been flaming as I locked eyes with you, wondering what I had done to deserve this.

And, as I re-braided my damp hair, you were singing it again. Looking back, it was kind of funny, I suppose. You like to ham it up, don't you? You're so strange, but I guess that's part of why I like you. If you were any other way, you wouldn't be, well, _you_. And I like you just fine the way you are. At least you hadn't sung that song from the Panteen commercial. You know, the one that goes "More, more, more…How do ya like it? How do ya like it?" I think that would have been _much_ worse. 

"You better now?" You swung around in your chair when you realized I was humming. "You've been really…uptight lately." You were leaned back against your desk, legs over the back of your chair, fingers running through your hair, a secretive smile on your face. "You've really got me worried, Kiddo."

"I'm fine." I looked at you, tossing my braid over my shoulder. I didn't like the look you were giving me, suggestive, yet laced with concern. It was a strange combination of emotions; your dark eyes were glazed over with desire as you peered at me from under your bangs.

I studied you for a moment, taking in your expression, your relaxed posture, that knowing smile which graced your lips. You were eating strawberry pocky, licking the frosting off it suggestively, taking your good old time on the cracker. Just the way you ate it made me want to blush up a storm. Did everything you do have to be so provocative?

"You're not fine. Something is bothering you. Just tell me already. I thought we trusted one another?" Your tongue snaked around the snack again and you offered me the package. "You want one?"

"No." I said shortly, "And there's nothing to tell." _Right; nothing to tell. You turn me on and I'm confused about my sexuality, my parents would kill me and I have no clue how you would react if I told you that I think I love you. Nope, nothing at all._

"Look, who are you trying to kid? Me? Or yourself? 'Cause you sure aren't fooling me. _Something_ is on your mind. I can see it in your eyes. So whatever lies you're trying to tell yourself, give it up. It's obviously not working. Just tell me what's wrong. You'll feel better." You shifted positions, straddling the chair, arms folded across the back, chin resting on your arms as you leaned forward attentively.

I needed a lie. I needed anything that came to mind. I needed…"I'm worried about my test this week. I did so bad on the other one…" That was a good excuse, right? I had failed the other test horribly, bombing with a sixty-two percent. You knew I had been terribly upset by this, so maybe you would stop asking questions…

You looked at me curiously for a moment, a hint of uncertainty still in your eyes. Then you smiled softly, fingers once again running through your bangs. "I can help you with that, you know. I took that class a couple semesters ago and still have my notes somewhere. I'll help you study if you want."

"Okay." I nodded, bangs bouncing on my forehead. You usually knew what you were talking about when it came to dates, definitions and that kind of crap. And you were good at making me think, always telling me I was smarter than I thought I was and I could pass any test if I put enough effort into it. When I was discouraged, you would always build up my confidence. "Thanks. You're such a good friend."

"I try my best. Let me work on my paper some more, then I'll give you a hand."

" 'Kay." A real smile crossed my face. I was glad you weren't pestering me any more about what was bothering me; glad you had let up, even if it was only for a little while.

We went for an early dinner that night, heading out around four. It had stopped raining but was still gray and dreary, the kind of weather no one ever wanted to go out in. We ate together, laughing and joking like always, some of your casual acquaintances joining us. Dinners like that were fun, when no one was ever intentionally cruel to any one else and we all got along. Some of your friends were a little strange, but then, so were you and they had welcomed me in. Of course, they had assumed I was gay and that we were a couple, which caused much blushing on my part and laughter from you as you set them straight --we weren't a couple; you hadn't even been down my pants yet.

As we walked back to our dorm, you decided to make a game out of jumping in every single puddle we came across, purposely trying to get me wet and to get me to smile. I was still brooding over my tumultuous emotions and smiles had been rare. The final straw came when you caught me off guard with one of those puddles that looks like nothing and is insanely deep. You were giggling like mad as I stood there gaping at you, then you tore off down the road, me in hot pursuit, calling after you "I'm going to kill you!!" and you yelling back "Good! I like it rough!" while sticking your tongue out at me. I caught you, finally, grabbing hold of your arm, and you looked at me, laughing, eyes sparkling and I grinned back up at you, pulling you down into a headlock, messing up your hair.

Both of us were laughing, joking around, when I suddenly felt shy and pulled away, my face heating up. You looked at me curiously, but said nothing for a while, just continued walking, leaving me standing there on the sidewalk, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do now. I wanted to run after you, grab you by the hand and tell you…

I found my notes and text book once we got back to the room and we climbed up on your bed together. Your bed, for whatever reason, is more comfortable than mine and we always sit on it when studying together. You leaned back lazily, firing away with questions and waiting for me to give answers. I was trying my best to remember, but I hated the course and it was hard for me. I spent more time whining and complaining than actually giving answers.

Finally, you seemed to realize we were getting nowhere. "I thought you wanted to do well on this test?" Sighing, you pushed my notebook out of the way. "You're not concentrating."

"Sorry." I mumbled. You were looking at me evenly, a thoughtful expression on your face. I was suddenly aware of your nearness and could feel a blush working its way across my cheeks. But how am I supposed to concentrate when you're right there next to me, only inches away, and I'm starting to feel something for you beyond just normal friendship?

"What's bothering you? Really; you can tell me." Your hand rested gently on my shoulder, "Is it me? Have I done something?" You bit your lip, eyes burning into mine. You looked hurt and I felt bad.

"It's not you…" How badly I wanted to tell you everything. I wanted to fall into your arms, lay my head on my shoulder and tell you just how much you mean to me. "It's a lot of things about me…" I was so tired of everything. You put an arm around me and I rested my head on your shoulder. "Is it wrong…?"

"Is what wrong?" You were looking at me curiously as you drew me closer into your arms. You were so warm…

"Can…Can you…K-kiss me…?" I looked up at you, my face heating up as that ever-present blush made itself apparent again.

"What?" Your dark eyes widened slightly and you looked startled, as if you would have never in your life expected me to ask something like that. "You want me to kiss you?"

"Please? Just once…"

That's where things went bad.

The blind falls back in place as I release it. It makes a clattering noise which sounds deafening in the solitude of our room. I cringe slightly, hoping it didn't wake you. Nope; you're still sleeping just as soundly as ever. Then I look over at my clock. It's already two-thirty and I haven't gotten any sleep.

Ugh.

I flop back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Why does it have to be like this? I love you and I'm too much of a coward to tell you. But then, I don't know what you'll do if I tell you. Maybe that's why I'm afraid. You'd be proud; I finally admitted the truth. I want to be with you, I never want you to have another man over and I don't care any more what my parents will think.

But how the hell do I tell you this?


	6. Overture

It's around five in the morning when I finally come to a conclusion. 

After seven months with you constantly in my presence, I'm going to be entirely honest with myself. I want you. I want you all to myself and that scares the shit out of me. Our relationship -which has been strictly platonic up to this point- has left me feeling more fulfilled than any physical relationship I've been in to this day. I've decided that you mean more to me than pleasing my parents, more than being popular around campus (I'm well aware of the stigma that comes with this lifestyle) and certainly more than any sort of reputation I've developed. I didn't put up a fight when you were fucking other guys because I wanted you to be happy, but I was jealous. I hate having to share you. I want you all to myself and we've never even done it. You're not even mine and I don't want to share.

I slide off my bed and cross the room to your bed. You're on your stomach again, hand under your chin, hair all around your pale face. You look so beautiful when you sleep, so innocent. I know the demon leaves you at night; it possesses me instead. "Hey." You never sleep with a shirt on and your skin is cold beneath my fingertips. Perhaps you're dead? You seem so lifeless…"Hey; wake up." You shift a little, mumbling something incomprehensible, swatting my hand away. "Wake up!"

"What?" 

You finally look up, eyes glazed with sleep, lidded with confusion. I'm climbing onto the bed, crawling over you. "I want you to hurt me. Break me. Make my heart bleed for you. Do it now before I fucking change my mind." 

You twist to look at me, eyes burning into mine from within the paleness of your face. "I have class in three hours." You yawn, "Go back to bed. You didn't sleep at all last night."

"I'm not tired." Why are you refusing me?

"You don't really want it." You roll over on your side, facing away from me. There's a certain amount of bitterness in your voice. "You pushed me away."

"I want it. I've been thinking all night." I'm hard just thinking about your touch; your taste as our lips smolder together. I need you or I'll go crazy.

"You'll regret it."

"I won't."

"You will." 

"Fuck." I'm angry now, "Fuck you. After you tease me all this time and I finally tell you it's okay, I'm sick of jerking off, you're fucking telling me no?" I grab you by the shoulder, forcing you to look at me. Your eyes are dark and serious; your chin trembles ever so slightly. Will you cry? I want to see you cry…You've never cried over me before…

"You want to know why? Don't you understand? You're the one person I never would have expected this from. I never wanted to hurt you. I only wanted your smiles." Your eyes burn into mine, "As long as you didn't want it, you were safe. But now, you want me to hurt you and I can't do it."

"Why not?" I'm being demanding now. How the tables have turned.

One of your hands snakes up to my face, caressing my cheek. Your gaze softens as you stare up at me, dark eyes wide; you're not half-asleep any more. "Because I love you."

My heart flutters wildly; I love you too. But I'm angry, I'm aroused and you're being difficult. "You love me? You fucking love me?? Then why do all those other guys? Why the hell do you fucking toy with me all the time? Why don't you ever act like you love me?"

You stare for a moment, then pull me down, tugging on my hair; you capture my mouth with yours, kissing me passionately, leaving me breathless. "Like this?" You whisper as our lips part. You're smiling now, fingers in my hair, our foreheads rested together.

__

Okay heart, resume beating…For a moment, all I can do is stare into your eyes, lost in their dark depths. This is what I've wanted; oh this is what I've wanted all along…I just never realized it. I rest my head on your chest; your heart is beating as wildly as mine. "Say it again."

"I love you." Your fingers are teasing my hair out of its braid. I love the feel of your fingers brushing across my neck, long and tapered, soft, gentle, cold all at the same time. Your voice is low with emotion, guttural almost; the words seem to come out in a soft moan. Your hand rests on my back, hair wrapped around it, your cheek pressed up against the top of my head.

"Again." I'm so demanding. But I want to hear it -and keep hearing it. I'm afraid that I imagined…I won't allow myself to be your fuck buddy. I'll only let you if you love me…If you really love me. Because I love you and I wouldn't want it any other way.

"I love you…" The words die as you kiss me again, tongue fighting its way into my mouth; this time I don't push you away. Rather, I return the kiss, violently, passionately, trying to tell you just how much I love you as well. My gaze drifts up to meet yours as you tug on my bottom lip with your teeth; there is no demon in your eyes. 

Abruptly, you sit up. I'm on your lap now, legs wrapped around your waist, head on your shoulder. Your hair spills around your face; the warmth of your bare chest working its way through my tee-shirt. Your arms crush me to you, holding me close as you speak into my hair. "Are you scared?" You don't sound teasing, just curious. Your fingers massage my back, loosening me up, causing me to melt further into your embrace.

"Scared…" I echo. Why would I be scared? I love you…Love makes a person do crazy things. One of your hands works its way down to the waistline of my shorts, tugging on the elastic. " 'M not scared." Okay, maybe I am a little. I'm scared that you don't really mean any of this; that you just want to give me a go and then toss me aside. Would you be so cruel as to tell me you love me just to score with me? 

"Do you want me?" Your voice comes in my ear, heavy with lust. A lock of your hair brushes against my cheek and I shiver. Your finger is running along the elastic now, tugging it, allowing it to snap gently back against my abdomen. "Do you want me to…?"

"I do." My arms are still around your neck; my face buried in your shoulder. I want you to play with me; to hurt me the way you do all the others. I'll be your little toy, so long as you love me…You're peeling my shirt off my, tossing it aside on the floor, my mind is a haze as your hands explore my bare chest. It feels good, your fingers roaming across my bare skin. I moan into your neck as your hands work down to my waist again, the moan becoming a whimper as your fingers brush across what they've been looking for. You're stroking me softly, cautiously, and my fingers are digging into your back as I beg silently for more.

Then you start to get violent, jerking and tugging and I'm whimpering more, squirming, but you keep me close, wrapping one arm around me, hand resting on my lower back. It hurts, but I feel like I'm floating at the same time, soaring, rising above the very clouds themselves as you do your thing. Is this bliss? Is it heaven, hell and purgatory rolled into one? There seems to be a magic touch to you; no one has ever made me feel so good before. But then, I've never loved any one like I love you before.

You're not gentle. Not at all. You're positively carnal as you act on pent up desires, and I'm ready to fall to pieces at your touch. There's a dull pain in my shoulder that I hadn't noticed before; you're biting me. Not playfully, it's actual biting, as if you want to draw blood. The pain doesn't bother me much; I know you would never truly hurt me. You said so yourself. I trust you to do as you please and even now when I'm in pain I know it will be worth it.

Millions of thoughts race through my mind; millions of small uncertainties. _You had better not pull any shit with me…_I whimper again, this time happily; the feelings you cause to rise within me are the most wonderful ever. You certainly do know what you're doing, don't you? _It's heaven; it's heaven; it's heaven…_A moan forms, but you cut it off, capturing my mouth again with yours. _You had better really love me._

You're leaning forwards and I'm falling back among the satin sheets. I'm pinned beneath you and you're tugging off my boxers as you sit on my stomach. "You know what comes next." You lean forwards -kissing, tasting- before you shed your own pants. The rest of you is as pale as your chest; your skin is a creamy white. My fingers twitch; I want to touch you, but I'm afraid.

"It's okay." You smile teasingly, "That's what you're after, right? Usually, I get to do all the work." You move my hand, allowing me to get a good feel, but I'm too shy to do anything else and you smile again, kissing me roughly before you set out to finish the job.

It hurts like hell.

You're doing your thing, body moving against mine, rhythmically, you're happy; you're happy; you're happy, and I feel nothing but wave upon wave of pain followed by something else I've never felt before. It almost feels good enough to make me forget that you're hurting me. _Almost_. I'm crying, tears rolling down my cheeks, and you're kissing them away, telling me you're sorry you have to hurt me, you love me, if you didn't have to hurt me, you wouldn't. 

__

It's okay; I trust you. My fingers are in your hair. I'm sure I'm yanking on it, but you don't seem to care at all. _I don't know what to do; I don't know what to do…_You're moving again, body warm against mine as you finish up, and all I can do is lay there sniffling. I haven't done anything but whimper; haven't kissed you, haven't even told you I love you. I feel terrible. I can't even move as you draw me into your arms, it hurts too much. 

"Are you okay?" Your voice is in my ear. You're caressing my cheek, wiping away the last traces of my tears as you kiss me. "I'm sorry; I wish it didn't have to be like that…" You sort of trail off, burying your face in my long hair. "I never, ever wanted to hurt you."

"I know you didn't." I whisper. Suddenly, I'm exhausted. A full night with no sleep, what you just put me through…I can hardly keep my eyes open any more. "I'll be okay. I'm just tired. And…sore." My head rests on your bare chest, "And my parents," I yawn, "Will kill me if they find out."

"Well," You roll over on your side, "Look at it this way: they don't have to worry about you getting a girl knocked up." My head is under your chin now; you have me wrapped securely in your arms. I never realized how strong you were until now when you're holding me in your embrace. 

At first, I don't notice the bitterness in your voice. I'm yawning again, nuzzling my head against you, trying to get comfortable. You stroke my hair as you continue, telling me something I never knew before. "That's what happened to my mom and dad. They were forced to get married when my mother was only 19. All of us were miserable. Mom used to hit me when she got frustrated or angry." Your arms are tighter around me now; it's almost as if you're afraid I'll leave. "Dad said it wasn't my fault…But Mom…"

I'm silent as you speak; you've never told me this before. I'd always wondered why you never talked about your family, why you never had any pictures of them and why you hated going home for breaks. It makes me sad, thinking that your family wasn't anything like mine, that you weren't treated well. How could any one beat you? How could your own mother…? " 'M sorry…I wish…I'd been there…" I move slightly and my gaze meets yours. You look so sad; your dark eyes full of pain and anguish. I truly meant it when I said I wish I could have been there for you. I would have kept you safe and never allowed any one to hurt you.

You take one of my hands, placing it on your lower back, guiding it so that my fingers brush across what feels like a scar. "You feel that? When I was ten, my mom pushed me and I busted my back on our coffee table. The scar has been fading, but…There are some wounds that just won't heal."

"That's why…" I don't need to say it. We both already know. It's why you hate women. Why you don't want them touching you; don't want them near you. Your own mother made you this way…You still would have been gay -I don't doubt that- but you wouldn't have so much animosity towards the fairer sex if your life had been different. But the scars she's given you…They just won't disappear.

You nod. "That's why." Your voice is so soft, I'm not sure you really spoke. My arm is still wound around your waist, hand resting on your back, but your hand has moved up to my face. You stroke my cheek with your thumb, your other fingers under my chin as you kiss me. "I thought you should know."

"Thank you…" My eyes are closing; I can't stay awake any longer even though all I want to do is listen to you, "…For telling me." You trust me; you truly trust me to tell me something like that.

"You can go to sleep. I know you must be wiped out." You roll over on your back again and I curl up next to you, my arm still draped over your bare stomach. You're still holding me close, your right arm lost somewhere in my sea of hair. The fingers of your left hand are twined through mine; you're holding on loosely, as if you don't want to hurt me. It's a little late for that, isn't it? My shoulder throbs where you sank your teeth in and most of my lower body is sore. But it doesn't matter; nothing matters. We're together now and that's what's important.

I fall asleep as you rub my back, fingers soft and warm now, not cold like they had been before. If only I could have been there. I can hear the steady beating of your heart; it beats to the same tune as my own. Your chest rises and falls as you draw breath; I can feel it beneath me. _Now that I'm here in your arms…You've come alive._ I sigh happily, settling comfortably beside you, kissing you softly. "I love you…"

"I know." That's the last thing I hear before I drift off into the world of dreams as you kiss me softly on the forehead.

You know.

That's a comforting thought.

You know…


	7. Finale

The sun is shining.

I can feel it on my face as it filters through the slats on our Venetian blind. I want to sleep longer, but I can't. Not with that light coming through the window and right into my face. I wonder what time it is. Late morning; early afternoon, perhaps. The sun had just been cresting the horizon when we finished up before and now it is climbing high in the sky. I want to know what time it is, but I know if I open my eyes, I'll never be able to fall back to sleep.

Instead, I roll over on my side and bury my face in your chest. Your arms wrap around me; you're pulling me closer, even in your sleep. Our bodies are pressed up together, sharing warmth; it's as if we give one another life. I've never been as close to another person as I am to you. I can't imagine myself being this close to another person ever. Only you. 

You move a little, mumbling something softly, and one of my hands finds its way to your face. I blink my eyes open as I stroke your cheek, looking up at your pale face. What are you dreaming about that you have such an expression darkening your features? Your grip around me tightens; it's almost as if some one is trying to take me away and you don't want them to. Don't you know? I will never leave you…

I'm awake now. It's too late for me to go back to sleep. I'm awake and I'm in your arms, the only place I truly want to be. Both of us had classes we skipped and neither of us has eaten anything. My stomach growls. Dinner had been early last night and now it's…my gaze flickers over to the clock…Almost one o'clock already. We have a class together -Philosophy- at three. Enough time to get up and eat before class…

"C'mon, time to get up." I say softly. I don't really want to wake you, but I am hungry and you don't look like you're having pleasant dreams anyway. My hand runs across your cheek again, pushing back your hair.

"Mm…What time is it?" You mumble, eyes still shut tightly. You haven't let go of me yet -not that I mind- and your fingers are twining themselves through my hair. I love the feel of your touch, the taste as your lips capture mine. My blue gaze meets coal black as your eyes blink open and a slow smile spreads across your face. "What a wonderful way to wake up in the morning." You drawl.

"Morning?" I grin, "It's nearly one o'clock."

"Oh." Your expression becomes sheepish.

"We have enough time to go eat before class." I inform you. You don't seem very interested in getting up. 

You roll over onto your back, pulling me along with you. My head is on your chest; I rise and fall with you as you breathe. It's like waves on an ocean, your breathing, and I like a ship, rising on the swells of your tide. We are drawn together; light from the lighthouse, each a ship in our own way, you going where ever the flow may take you and I beating against the current, trying desperately not to follow the same course as every one takes. You've lead me home now; I know your depths and just how to cause a ripple in the still water. "Do we have to go to class?"

"We should." 

"I don't want to."

"We should anyway." I pull back from you, studying you for a moment. You look disheveled; hair down long, eyes bleary, no lipstick. I suppose I'll get used to you being like this after a while, but right now your appearance seems so strange. "You already slept through two classes." My hair is a curtain around me, spilling over my shoulders and falling on your bare chest.

"Whose fault is that?" You tease, another lazy smile gracing your features, "You're the one who woke me up at five in the morning demanding sex."

My face flushes red. You would put it so tactlessly, wouldn't you? But it is true, I suppose. "Well, uh, you did get a good night's sleep and if I can get up for one little class after only six hours of sleep, give or take a little, so can you." I stammer.

"I suppose." You yawn, one hand rising to your mouth, "I need a shower before I go anywhere. I imagine you do to, huh?"

"Wouldn't be a bad idea." I'm moving slowly; you've left me a bit sore. I didn't know it was possible to hurt so much, but you're proving me wrong on a lot of things I thought were impossible. A year ago, I never would have thought I'd wake up in bed with another man. But with you…Nothing is impossible. 

"Where you going?" Your hand rests lightly on my arm.

"To get dressed, stupid. Where do you think?" I blink, looking back at you.

"You haven't kissed me yet." You grin, eyes dancing with mischief. You're sitting up now, knees drawn up to your chest, your head tipped to one side as you study my face.

A slight frown crosses my face. You're so demanding at times. It's not like we're going to be apart for hours or something. Just half an hour while both of us are in the shower and getting dressed. But I decide it would be best to just humor you and besides, I _like _when you kiss me. "I'm sorry." I twist back around, lips meeting yours, and you pull me back into your arms, cuddling me to your chest.

"I don't want to go to class." You whisper, "I want to stay here with you." You twine a strand of my hair around your finger as your lips brush across my forehead. I want to protest -we need to go to class; won't it look odd if both of us are absent?- but before I get the chance you release me.

I look up at you questioningly, but you just smile a cryptic smile and pat me on the shoulder. Shrugging, my brow wrinkles and I climb down from the bed -gently; let's not strain ourselves now- and begin gathering my shower things. I know you'll be done before me; you have a lot less hair than I do.

The sun is still shining brilliantly as we step out of the dorm. Walking to the dining hall, you're slightly ahead of me, that usual cocky look to your stride. You take no shit from any one, yet I've seen the world crumble around you.

You look back over your shoulder at me, one eyebrow rising slightly. "You okay back there?"

"I'm fine." I mumble, a yawn escaping my mouth, "Just a little tired." My fingers run through my bangs, pushing them from my eyes. You fall in step beside me, sliding one arm around my shoulder, and I lean into your embrace. You're so warm; so gentle with me. Staying in bed would have been better, but we need to go to class. 

"No regrets?" 

"No regrets." 

"Next time will be better." You inform me as you lean towards me, your shadow sheltering me from the afternoon sun, "It won't hurt so much. I promise." Your kisses are so sweet; I want to melt at your touch. But there are people wandering campus and they're going to see…"Don't blush so much." You laugh, tweaking my nose.

I hardly remember lunch. It went by so fast; me sitting right by your side, you with an arm around my shoulder. I don't think this was too unusual, you like to cling to people, you like to tease. I felt safe there. Alone, we would both be teased. But together…No one dares. We are like an unstoppable pair. 

Class was held outside that afternoon. The professor decided it was a nice enough day that we could sit in the quad. The quad is an area between two buildings made up of a wooden structure set in the grass. Every one is getting comfortable here and there on the benches. I settle myself down in a corner on a bench sunk into the quad and you sit on the platform behind me, legs dangling over the edge. No one seems to care; the class is entirely used to your oddness at this point.

The professor looks over the rims of his glasses at us, taking in our comfortable seating arrangement. He raises an eyebrow at me, a questioning look in his eyes; you're leaned over my shoulder, arms around me. I suppose he is a little perplexed by the fact that I'm not pushing you off. Then he flips open the text to the page we're supposed to be on and looks pointedly back at you. "Jakotsu. Read."

You smile politely. "Ah, sorry, Sir." I know you hate to read in class, "I don't have my book with me." You'll do anything to get out of reading, won't you?

Your eyes meet his and for a moment there's tension. Then he glances at me, a small frown crossing his face. "I'm sure your companion would be willing to share." My face heats up as his eyebrows rise suggestively. I swear, I'm going to be forever cursed with this blush.

"Sounds good to me." You shift slightly, leaning further over my shoulder so you can see the book too. Your fingers tease along my chest and the blush deepens as you begin to read. 

I only half listen; my brain is busy sorting out my tumultuous emotions. This morning was quite the experience for me. I'm certain what we did was the right thing. I truly wanted you to do it; I truly love you. I'm still worried about what my parents will think of me, but they can go to hell for all I care. They had the chance to be happy; why shouldn't I be entitled to the same? I'm frightened as well at the thought of the kind of shame that this will bring upon us both; the roommates who fuck together, I can hear the taunting now. Which one of us is the victim here? You, because I took advantage of our friendship to make me feel good, or I, because maybe I never really wanted this and you pressured me into it. Maybe we're both victims here…Circumstances and fate seemed to move against my will.

"_…The other path to knowing 'the secret' is love. Love is an active penetration of the other person, in which my desire to know is stilled by union. In the act of fusion I know you, I know myself, I know everybody -- and I 'know' nothing…*_" Your voice is slow as you read and I almost want to laugh at the selection he's asked you to read. It's as if he somehow knows…

You finish reading and there's a lull for a moment and you whisper into my ear something about sadomasochism and how there's nothing immature about our "love" and I blush at the sexual implication. Looking to make sure no one is watching, you steal a kiss, causing my face to flame. "Love ya, Bankotsu." You murmur.

More blushing on my part. I have no response to that; not one that I'm willing to give with the rest of our class trying to make it look like they're not staring while the professor lectures about the passage you just read. I simply lean back against your knee and answer softly. "I know."

__

I know. A smirk crosses my face.

I suppose -in reality- I know nothing.

**__**

The End (Or is it? O.o??…Yeah; it is ^^;;)

__________________

*This selection is taken from Erich Fromm, "Love, the Answer to the Problems of Human Existence" from _The Art of Living_, pp 6-26. Copyright © 1956 by Erich Fromm. (This is actually an excerpt from my philosophy text book.)

****

Okay, I know some of ya might not totally get this since were still a good fifty or so episodes away from this part of IY. Bankotsu and Jakotsu are members of the Shichinin-tai, a band of mercenaries brought back to life and hired by Naraku…If ya wanna know more 'bout them, I suggest TailFluffGirl's site, _Undying Devotion._ You can find it in her profile, I do believe.

Thank you for the kind reviews *smiles cheerfully and waves*


	8. Bonus Chapter: Encore

****

This is the "Encore" chapter of _Victim of Circumstance_, (set a little over a year after the actual story of _Victim_ ends) which could have been posted as a separate fic, but I wanted it to be a bonus for the people who did read the fic. It would make little sense on its own, plus it's just a lot of angst and fluff at the end.

It's also my entry for Undying Devotion's spring contest. 

So read on for the Encore…

[Dedicated to the person I never want to be apart from…She knows who she is.]

________________

Encore: Ameagari - After the Rain

It's raining.

Not just any little spring shower, however, it's a torrential downpour and it shows no signs of stopping. The sky had filled up with foreboding clouds early the previous evening and the storm had spilled forth sometime early in the morning, causing the outside world to look as if it had been flooded. The whole area is lush and green -perfect for the time of year- but it can't be enjoyed, due to the non-stop deluge of rain.

It's perfect weather for sitting around and moping.

I'm sitting here, slumped down against a wall, staring at my fingers. There's a pale, silverfish light filtering into the room caused by the grayness outside. It's damp and chilly, but I don't feel like moving, just sitting here and staring at the blue veins running under my skin. _I wonder,_ I muse,_ what would happen if I made a little gash right along that vein…Wonder what my blood tastes like…_My fingers wiggle before my eyes and I pick some dirt from under my nails.

There's nothing to do.

I sigh. _This is boring._

The rain continues to streak down the window, creating rivers on the glass. Normally, the sound would have been soothing, but I'm alone in the room and it seems dreary and empty without you here. Normally, on days like this, we would snuggle up together and watch a movie, but you have to get ready. 

You have to get ready to leave me.

Tomorrow, you graduate. We both knew this day would come, but we've always avoided the subject. It's been something we skirted around for the past year or so, since I finally stopped running from the truth about myself. I know you're excited about it and I want to be happy for you, but more than anything, I'm scared. 

I don't want you to leave me. 

What will I do next year without you?

For the past two years, all I have known is you. When I came here, I didn't know anybody. I was alone, no friends here, no friends waiting for me at home. Sure, I had my fuck buddies -the girls I shagged with- and I had people I worked with in classes, but you were my only true friend. You are the only one I really want in my life. When I moved into the dorm, I was scared of you. But I quickly learned you were nothing to fear…

You like to tease me so much. Back in the beginning, all you did was make me blush. You would say things that embarrassed me, things so suggestive that the most lewd people I knew probably would have been blushing. You had more guys around than I could count, more people who hated you simply for what you were and more crazy schemes than any one I know could think of in a lifetime. As I got used to you, as we became closer and closer to one another, I saw things in you that I had never seen in another person before in my life. I had never seen any reason to trust another person in my life.

But you…Somehow, you pulled me into your little world. You made me care about you, made me trust you, made me love you. I don't know how you did it, but you did it nonetheless. 

And now you're going to leave me.

I slump down lower on the bed until I'm sprawled sideways across it. I don't want you to leave me. What am I going to do? _What am I going to do?_ My hand drags across my face, then runs through my bangs. My fingers are cold and shaking. It's only hit me right now. 

You're really going to be gone.

Has the past year meant nothing to you at all? Are you really going to be so cruel as to leave me now after I gave up girls for you? I know you need to get a job and start life after school, but I don't want you out of _my _life. I need you to be there for me when I'm afraid, when I don't know what I want, when my parents starting digging on me. They still don't know about us -I want to keep it that way- and I need you here to keep me safe from what will happen if they find out. 

I'm curled up on the bed now, clutching your stupid stuffed snake. It's pointless that there are even two beds in our room -we only ever use one of them- but you say we have to keep up appearances, even though I'm sure the kids in the other half of our quad know we're so much more than "just friends." You have the snake; you like to sleep with it almost as much as you like to sleep with me. 

It smells like you.

I burry my nose in the plush, inhaling deeply, never wanting this moment to disappear. I want to capture every little memory of you that I can. I have two more years here without you and I never want to forget us…

"Hey, are you okay?"

I sit up abruptly when you come barging into the room. Your feet are bare, the bottoms of your pants wet and trailing behind you, and you're toweling off your hair. You're disheveled, but you look beautiful to me. "I'm okay. The weather is getting to me or something, that's all." 

"You'd better not be getting sick." You're kicking off you pants, revealing pink and purple plaid boxers. Instead of pulling on new bottoms, you climb up onto the bed with me, drawing me into your arms. "I want you to be there for me tomorrow." A smile lights your face; you're so excited. 

How can I tell you that I don't want this at all? 

"I will." My head rests on your shoulder. You're cold. You've been running around in the rain all day while I studied for finals. I think this is the only time I've been so selfish to wish I could deny you something you're excited about. I don't want to be like this; I want to be happy for you. But I feel like a part of me is dying.

"This is going to be the most important day of my life." You continue, settling yourself comfortably on the bed, me in your arms. "I'm going to be able to get a real job now. And do all of the things I've always wanted to do…I won't go back home ever; I can't go back there. I'm gonna get my own place and finally have a life away from my parents."

I listen silently as you prattle on and on about all the things you wish to do and how thrilled you are. I try to smile, but it makes my face hurt, so I snuggle up closer to you, twisting around so you can't see the frown on my face; can't see the tears threatening to come unbidden. I can't cry; not now, not while you're holding me in your arms. Not while you're so excited about moving on. Who am I to hold you back? Who am I…? Only the person to whom you've professed undying love. That's all.

"…You'll have to come visit me. You'll have to come spend a lot of time with me. I'll miss you so much." You're speaking into my hair, one hand down near my waist, under my shirt, palm cold against the bare skin of my stomach. "I'll be lonely without you." You whisper. Your voice suddenly sounds choked and I feel bad for being selfish and not taking your feelings on our separation into consideration. "You're going to get a new roommate and make new friends and I'll be all alone…"

"You'll make friends too." I twist around in your arms so that my eyes meet yours. I want to reassure you, but I don't know how, "And I'll never forget about you. I love you, remember?" I'm completely turned over now; lying on top of you, we're chest-to-chest. My head rests under your chin, I can feel you swallowing. Are you trying to fight back tears? It's okay for you to cry…

But you don't cry and what you say next makes me want to cry instead. "If you find some one else, I'll understand. I know there are a lot of pretty girls out there, even if I don't see them as pretty. I know you're bi, not totally into guys like I am. So if you want to…I won't stop you."

No. _No_. My world comes crashing down the second the words leave your painted lips. How could you…? Do you seriously think I would ever want some one else? Is there another in your life? Have you been lying to me? Is this how…? Are you subtly trying to break up with me? 

I suddenly feel ill.

I pull out of your arms and alight from the bed, running out of the room and down the hall without bothering to put anything on my feet. You're calling after me, but I'm not about to stop. I don't know if I'm going to throw up or not, but my stomach is churning and I'd rather not risk it. 

There's no one in the bathroom, which is good because I'm slumped down on the tiled floor, hanging over the toilet. My chest is heaving and my stomach turns a few times, but nothing comes up and I lay my head against the cool porcelain. How can this be happening? Is it real? Or just some sort of bad dream? You did not seriously just tell me that…

My eyes well up with tears. Why? Why does it have to be like this? How will I make it for two whole years without you? Before you, life was meaningless. You give me a reason to live; for the first time in my life, I am loved by some one who is not "obligated" to love me like my parents and the rest of my family. How will I go on if you don't want me any more…?

The tears roll off my face and onto the toilet seat. My stomach does one final somersault before its contents decide to make a second appearance. Never in my life have I been so glad to be alone; it would have been embarrassing for any of the other guys to find me like that. A part of my mind is telling me not to care what they think, but I can't help but care. I hate seeming weak.

There's a taste of bile and vomit in my mouth; it won't go away no matter how many times I rinse my mouth out. I lean over the sink, arms shaking violently; I hate throwing up. All I want is for you to hold me in your arms and tell me it's okay; but I can't go back to our room like this. I can't go back knowing you don't want me any more.

"Are you all right?"

I don't have to. Your voice startles me; I jerk my head up. You're stopped in to doorway, wearing a wife beater, your boxers and a worried expression on your face. Just looking at you makes me want to cry harder so I turn my gaze back to the sink. My whole body shakes and I have to brace myself against the countertop to keep from collapsing. "I threw up." I mumble miserably. 

There's silence for a moment -a long dreadful silence- then you leave the doorway to stand beside me. I see us reflected in the mirror; see the fear in my eyes, the concern etched across your pale face. One of your hands finds its way to my forehead, soft and cool against my damp skin. "You don't have a fever." I'm ready to crumble at your touch, but you…You don't love me. "Come on; you'd better go to bed." 

Bed…Bed would be nice; but I don't want to go back there. I don't want to be alone in there with you, knowing you're ready to spread your wings and fly. I don't want to be there where every little thing will remind me that only yesterday we were both happy and in love. I'd rather stay here in the bathroom where everything is sterile and unfeeling. But even here...There are still things which remind me of happier times. I can hear your voice echoing the songs you sang in the shower; see you in the mirror combing your hair and putting on your lipstick. In here was where you smacked me in the ass with a wet towel…Everywhere I go, everything I do, it only serves to remind me that you're going to be gone.

Obediently, I allow you to lead me back to the room and put me to bed. I'm not even sick; I know I'm not. I'm just so nervous it's making my stomach jumpy. This isn't the first time I've been so anxious I've made myself throw up. 

You tuck me in, blankets snugly around me even though it's the middle of May. "You're going to be okay." You push back my bangs, wiping the sweat from my forehead. "It'll go away. You'll be better by tomorrow." Your fingers are so gentle, but it sounds more like you're reassuring yourself than comforting me.

I turn away from you. Tomorrow…That's all that matters to you, isn't it? You're going to go off and leave me behind and I'm not ready for it. I'll never be ready for it. I put so much on the line for you and now…If I don't feel well, will you stay with me? I thought I was important to you…I thought…I can't think any more; tears are filling my eyes. You don't care. You don't care at all. "You don't seriously think that…" Is all I can manage before tears start rolling down my face. 

"Think that what?" Your hand finds its way to my cheek and you're wiping away the tears, "Why are you crying?"

"Don't you understand? Don't you…" I'm scrunched up on my side, clutching a pillow to fill the void where you usually are. Tears are running down my face and I'm shaking uncontrollably again. "Why are you so excited about…leaving me…?"

There's another dreadful silence and your hand draws back from my face. _This is it._ I ready myself for the blow. You're going to tell me you don't love me, you don't care about me, you don't want to be with me. _You're going to…_I love you and all I've been to you is pleasure. It's all a lie.

Then suddenly you're sobbing beside me, pulling me back into your embrace, your face squashed up against my back. "You think…You think that…How could you possibly…?" You finally manage to squeak out, "You think I'm excited about leaving you?" Your tears are mingling with mine now, "I love you. How could you think I'm happy about being apart from you?"

"You said that…" My voice wavers, "You…You'd understand if I found somebody else and I thought…I thought you didn't want to be with me any more…" I feel miserable. My heart aches and I just want to turn back around and throw myself into your arms. But I'm still afraid…

"I didn't mean that I don't want to be with you." You coax me around so that we're facing one another, "I'm sorry; that came out wrong. I just wanted you to know I love you so much that if you found happiness with some one else, I would let you go. I only want what's best for you…"

I bite my lip. What can I say in reply to this? You love me enough to let me go and I…Do I love you the same? "What's best for me…" I pause to gather my thoughts, "Is to have you by my side. Always." My voice is slow and hesitant, "I don't want you to go. Tomorrow is going to be our last day together. Then…Then you're going to go away and…and…" I can't continue because I'm crying again.

A slow smile spreads across your face and you caress my cheek. "Do you honestly think I would be so cruel as to leave you behind?" You ask softly, "I'm not going far away. I'm going to get an apartment in town. I'm going to stay right here; not leave, Silly." You pull me close to your chest, "What would I do without you?" You bury your face in my hair, "I love you so much."

"R-really?" I manage to gulp out. This is the most wonderful thing you could have said.

"Really." You affirm, "Is that what you've been so worried about these past few days? You kept saying it had something to do with your economics final, but I didn't believe you. I know you better than that. You can come see me whenever you want. I'll only be a bus ride away. Hell, I'll be close enough that you could walk."

I throw my arms around you, trying to contain my excitement. You're staying! You're really staying! I never, _ever _have to be without you! This is the happiest I've felt in the past month. I was so afraid of you leaving…It had been hard for me to pretend I was happy, yet I did it for your sake. "I was so scared you would leave me…" My face is nuzzled into the warmth of your chest, "And you said we would be together forever."

"I'm scared too." You admit almost shyly, "This is going to change everything, you know. But I don't want it to change any more than you do." You're absently stroking my hair, fingers twining through my thick braid, "I'm scared of being on my own, of not having you there always, of what people will think of me. Who's going to care when I cry? Who's going to tell me not to listen to what other people say? How am I going to live by myself? I need you because you are the only person who has ever loved me." You pull back a little, studying me, then draw my face up to yours, "And I love you more than anything. I know," You whisper as our lips brush together, "That we can make it side by side."

"Together forever." I agree softly and we kiss again. "I love you too. I won't ever let you be alone." I snuggle down further in your arms, perfectly content to stay that way forever. I'm still scared of what tomorrow will bring, but knowing we will face it together…It makes me less scared.

"Are you okay now?"

I nod. "Are you?"

"Very." You're smiling. I can tell without even looking. Your gorgeous smile has graced your face; the rainbow after the rain. This may only be the calm at the eye of the storm, there may be hard times ahead for us, but I know without a doubt that I can do anything with you by my side. I know…Somehow, I just know.

Outside, it stops raining.

**__**

The End; Take 2 (...I think it's really done this time!! ^_^;;)

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Thank you all for reading the bonus chapter! It's titled after my fictionpress.com penname. I hope you enjoyed the angst, fluffy goodness ^_^


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